


Tight Knit

by Gloomier



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Hatake Sakumo Lives, Hokage Hatake Sakumo, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:42:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22845010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gloomier/pseuds/Gloomier
Summary: Iruka has A Day™️ but it's not all bad.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi & Hatake Sakumo, Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka
Comments: 50
Kudos: 330
Collections: KakaIru 2019 Mini Bingo!





	Tight Knit

**Author's Note:**

> My second fill for the Kakairu mini bingo. This is for strange/random hobbies.
> 
> Sakumo is also a good dad.

__

* * *

_It’s that time of year again,_ Iruka thought as he stepped out of his apartment.

He hunched his shoulders inward as the cold, winter wind picked up, blowing falling snow into his face. Iruka buried himself further into his favorite tattered scarf, trying to protect himself from both the bitter cold and the snow. He already missed the mild weather and vibrant colors of fall.

Iruka sighed, locked his door, and began his Saturday morning journey to the mission desk.

He would have preferred to run across the rooftops, help him warm up a bit, but the ice was a real danger and the Hokage had cautioned people not to take any chances. Some poor bastard already slipped and hurt themselves. Iruka’s kid self would have blown off the warning altogether, but he was older and a little wiser, so he walked up the street.

By the time Iruka got to the Tower, his fingers were numb and his nose felt like it was going to fall off. The mission room was blessedly warm, and he was already starting to warm up.

Anko was there before him, which was a bit of a surprise. She had her feet up on the table, balancing her chair back on two legs— _asleep_ no less.

Unlucky for her that it was Iruka who caught her.

Iruka quietly walked up to the table and shoved her feet roughly to the side and off it. “Can you not?”

Anko let out a startled squawk and her arms flailed wildly in an attempt to keep from falling backward.

Iruka laughed at her as the chair tipped backward, despite her desperate flailing, and clattered to the floor.

“Fuck!” Anko yelled.

Land of wind probably heard her.

“You don’t have to be an asshole!” She snarled at him, rolling out of the chair and to her knees.

It only made Iruka laugh harder.

“Well, you don’t have to put your feet up on the table like a barbarian,” he managed to reply between gasps of air and wheezing laughter.

Anko glared viciously at him as she righted her chair, then threw herself down into and crossed her arms over her chest petulantly.

It wasn’t often that Iruka got to torment the tokubetsu-jounin that had mission desk shifts, so he lived for these moments— _savored_ them.

Iruka unwound his scarf from his neck and dropped it in a pile on the desk, then began setting up for their shift.

He pulled out the boxes containing the day’s mission scrolls, as well as rolling out the lists of the available missions (classed D through S) neatly across the desk. He also took out empty bins for the incoming completed mission scrolls and set out the blank report scrolls, making sure there were extra pens and pencils too.

Anko was silent and didn’t move a muscle as he went through the routine, but that was okay. There were ten minutes left before the mission desk opened. Iruka slipped out of the room and to the lounge where he set the coffee machine to brew. He would sooth Anko’s ruffled feathers with a mug of hot chocolate and extra marshmallows.

Iruka returned to the mission room with two minutes to spare, coffee and hot chocolate in hand.

Anko grumbled her thanks when he handed the peace offering over. She hugged the mug close to her body, seemingly absorbing the warmth radiating from it.

Iruka smiled and did the same thing when he took his seat at the table. The lingering chill in his hands was quickly chased away by the scalding heat of his coffee.

The first group of shinobi limped into the room thereafter. They looked exhausted, and their clothes were damp where the snow had landed.

“Good morning,” Iruka greeted them and smiled warmly, “Welcome back!”

It was time to get to work.

* * *

The slow trickle of tired ninja turned into long lines and grumpy ninja. The snow was coming down pretty good now, and it was probably just as cold outside as it was when Iruka stepped out of his apartment earlier—if the shinobi squeezing into the warm room was any indication of the conditions outside.

Anko complained, mumbling venomously under her breath as she dealt with the shinobi in line before her, stamping each report harshly. Iruka wanted very much to bitch about her being too lenient with the reports (and nearly ruining them at the same time) but he kept his thoughts to himself, and instead terrorized the shinobi in his line.

“I'm not accepting this report, Genma. And you missed three sections,” Iruka told the tokujo sternly, pointing at each empty section on the scroll.

Genma scowled at him.

The man looked like utter shit and Iruka empathized, he did, but he couldn’t in good conscience accept Genma’s report. The words were barely legible, more than likely having been written on the move with only a few hours of sleep, and it was smeared pretty badly.

“I would really like to go home, take a hot shower, and go the fuck to sleep,” Genma said with strained calmness, “So please, could you just accept it just this one time, Iruka?”

Iruka bit the inside of his cheek as he debated on what to do. Normally he had no qualms standing up to his fellow ninja—shouting them down off their high horse and politely (and very smugly) browbeating them into redoing shitty mission reports—but today he was feeling a little bit forgiving.

Iruka pulled a blank scroll off the top of the pile and watched as Genma stiffened, readying himself for a confrontation. He rolled up Genma’s shitty report and held both it and the fresh scroll out to the tokujo and said, “Go home. Get some sleep, redo your report, and bring it in tomorrow afternoon.”

Genma instantly relaxed and grabbed the offered scrolls.

“Don’t expect this to happen again. And get that wound taken care of, don’t think I didn’t see you favoring your left side.” Iruka added.

Genma nodded then turned to leave, allowing the next person in line to step up.

Iruka accepted their scroll and unrolled it... Then promptly rolled it back up.

“Redo it,” Iruka commanded, in a tone that brokered no argument, and handed the scroll back.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” the new ninja argued. Iruka vaguely recognized him, but couldn’t remember anything about him except for his name (Shoto) and his rank (chuunin). “Just take it.”

“No,” Iruka said more firmly, “I won’t accept this garbage. Your answer to section C isn’t filled out completely,” Iruka explained, unrolling the scroll again and pointing at the section in question. Then his finger slid downward. “And E is _wrong._ Not to mention that pre-genin have better handwriting than you, and they’re at least half your age, _chuunin-san._ It will take you twenty minutes to redo it. So get going.”

Iruka tossed the open scroll back on the table, then threw a blank scroll and pen down next to it for good measure.

Iruka thoroughly enjoyed how the man’s face adopted an angry red blush.

“I outrank _you,”_ the angry chuunin dared to say.

Iruka grinned. “How can you possibly outrank me when we’re both _chuunin?”_ he said sweetly.

“I have seniority!” the man argued haughtily.

Iruka may only have been twenty years old, but seniority meant very little, and it sure as fucking hell didn’t mean you could slack off on your work, paperwork included.

What a fucking joke.

“Stop wasting my time,” Iruka snorted, then pointed behind the chuunin. “And stop wasting theirs too.”

The chuunin turned his head, and his face went from seething red to deathly pale in an instant. The other shinobi (genin, chuunin, some tokubetsu-jounin, and a few jounin) in line were glaring at him.

The chuunin hastily grabbed the scrolls off the table and headed for one of the smaller tables at the edge of the room to hopefully redo his report the correct way.

A half-hour went by and the line moved until chuunin from before was back.

Shoto dropped his report on the desk petulantly. “Here.”

Iruka narrowed his eyes and picked up the report.

At least Iruka could read what the asshole had written this time. There was some effort put into the sections Iruka had pointed out; he wasn’t liable to get anything better. Filling out reports wasn’t complicated, paperwork was a necessary evil that kept the inner workings of the village running smoothly.

“See. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Iruka said sarcastically as he rolled up the scroll and set it in the bin of completed C-rank missions behind him.

The chuunin’s face twisted angrily. Before Iruka could arch a questioning eyebrow, the man was forming hand seals for a fire jutsu and reaching out for Iruka’s scarf that had been left on the table.

Just a touch of the chuunin’s hand was all it took to set the scarf on fire.

The acrid smell of burning yarn invaded Iruka’s nose immediately and it quickly spread through the room.

The chuunin looked pleased with himself. Iruka was murderous. He wanted to vault over the table abe break the guy’s spine. Instead, Iruka gritted his teeth angrily and flared his chakra.

Two ANBU instantly materialized. One was wearing a cat mask, and the other had an ox mask.

“I’m sure someone with your _seniority w_ ill be able to explain in detail why it was okay to destroy someone’s personal property while in the Hokage Tower—with a _fire jutsu,”_ Iruka said, equal parts smug and pissed. “Get him out of my sight.”

Then the ANBU and the incredibly rude chuunin were gone—and Iruka’s good mood right along with them.

He stared mournfully down at the pile of ash that was once his favorite scarf.

Iruka loved that scarf too. It was one of the few things he had left of his mother. When he was a kid he would beg her to let him wear it, but she had always said no and explained to him a dear friend had made it for her, and that perhaps one day he would get his own.

He never did find out who made it, nor did he get his own.

It didn’t matter anymore, that scarf was gone just like everything else in his life.

“Next!” Iruka shouted, shoving the tumultuous feelings squirming unpleasantly within him, and pointedly ignored the ashes of his memories in a pile on the table.

* * *

There were no further incidents after the scarf burning.

Iruka distracted himself by hyper-focusing on all the paperwork. Anko was in a considerably better mood, and between them, they quickly and efficiently got through the morning mission room traffic. Iruka had even worked through his lunch break when noon came and went.

Their efforts created a break in mission room activity, so Iruka took the opportunity to deliver the lockbox full of S-class mission reports to the Hokage’s office.

“I can take those for you, Iruka,” Anko offered.

“I got it,” Iruka said, picking the heavy box up. He appreciated the thoughtfulness of her offer, but he needed to get up and walk around. 

After he returned to the mission room, he’d have to clean up the mess on the table.

The trip to the Hokage’s office felt like forever, but it was likely because he still felt dazed. The burning of his mother’s scarf had hit him harder than he was expecting. It wasn’t uncommon that shinobi broke due to stress, but Iruka never had a comrade deliberately attack him or destroy something that belonged to him while on duty inside the village.

When he arrived outside the office, an on-duty ANBU in a dragon mask silently opened the door for him.

“I’ve got the S-class mission—” Iruka started to say, but cut himself off and stopped midway through the room.

Where he expected Hatake Sakumo, Godaime Hokage, to be sitting at the desk working, Iruka found Hatake Kakashi, the Hokage’s only son, slouched down in the chair fiddling with something in his lap in his father’s place.

He and Kakashi were around the same age; Iruka guessed Kakashi was around a year older maybe less. It was strange too, Iruka never saw Kakashi around the village or the tower very much—maybe once in a blue moon. Yet here he was in the Hokage’s office of all places. He was dressed down in a black tank top very similar to what the ANBU liked to use, his signature mask, and his hitai-ate which was slanted down over his left eye.

Kakashi’s single visible eye flicked up at Iruka for a half a second before it was back to focusing on whatever it was he was messing with. Iruka couldn’t see it... _Weird._ Then there was the desk. While it was vacant of any work, in its place was a veritable mountain of what looked to be knit accessories. There were gloves, socks, scarves, and hats. Iruka swore he saw a blanket in there too, right along with things he couldn’t recognize as they were buried under everything else.

“Uhh, where’s the Hokage?” Iruka asked lamely and approached the desk.

Kakashi’s shoulders rose slightly, _‘Don’t know, don’t really care’_ the lazy gesture told Iruka.

Iruka rolled his eyes, suddenly feeling exasperated. “Why are you even in here?”

Kakashi’s eye refocused on Iruka, his face was three quarters covered but the expression still managed to look baleful. Iruka did his best not to laugh because he looked more like a kicked puppy than one of Konoha’s elite jounin.

With an irritated grumble, Kakashi’s eye drifted back down to watch his hands.

While Iruka didn’t laugh, his voice carried his amusement, “What was that? I didn’t catch what you said.”

Kakashi sighed heavily.

“I’m stuck here, okay?” the jounin groused unhappily.

“What do you mean stuck? Doesn’t seem like you’re being held against your will. Someone like you would have no issues getting away, right?” Iruka commented thoughtfully. After a moment he smirked knowingly. “Did you get in trouble?”

Kakashi pulled his hands up from his lap. His fingers were curled around were two long needles; a bright pink yarn monstrosity hung from them.

He had been knitting, and the pile of knit-wear had been made by him.

Iruka didn’t judge how other shinobi decompressed after missions (unless they were doing it in a negative way, such as through domestic abuse), but he wasn’t expecting knitting to be Kakashi’s decompression hobby. Iruka’s hobby was baking, which was hilarious because he couldn’t cook anything otherwise. He practically lived off baked goods, easy to make dinners, and take out.

The garments and accessories piled on the desk, while in all kinds of colors—from bright, eye-melting nonsensical rainbows to comfy earthy hues and everything in between—looked incredibly well-made. Kakashi was right at home in his craft, and such a wonderful one at that.

Iruka had to admit he was mildly jealous.

“I escaped from the hospital and got caught. Now I’m stuck to the chair because I’m not allowed to be by myself.”

Iruka couldn’t stop the bark of laughter that escaped him, but as soon as it did he couldn’t stop laughing. Before he dropped the box of mission scrolls onto the floor in his mirth, he set it on the desk, pushing the knit mountain forward.

He had heard through the gossipy-shinobi grapevine about Kakashi’s distaste for the hospital. It seemed that he didn’t get caught very often though. And to get stuck to a chair? _Holy shit._

“I’m sorry, but that’s funny as hell,” Iruka gasped, wiping errant tears from his face.

Kakashi’s expression couldn’t be mistaken for anything but extreme disgruntlement.

“Oh, man,” Iruka took a deep breath and giggled as he released it. “So you’re not supposed to be alone, but there wasn’t anyone in here when I came in,” he pointed out.

Kakashi set his current work-in-progress on the desk and folded his arms across his chest. “I’ve got ANBU babysitters,” he muttered and glared at one corner of the room.

Not even a second after mentioning it, another ANBU materialized next to the desk. It was Cat again.

Kakashi reached out and picked an orange hat from the pile and threw it at Cat. “This one goes to Gai.”

“Fine,” Cat said, their words coming out as a long-suffering sigh. He turned his head and looked directly at Iruka before disappearing again.

Well, that was weird too.

Today was just a day of weird things. Iruka wasn’t sure he liked it.

“Doesn’t Gai wear that really weird green jumpsuit? Why’d you make him an orange hat?” Iruka asked curiously, shifting his gaze from where Cat had stood only a moment ago back to Kakashi.

“They match his orange leg warmers,” Kakashi replied simply, then added, “He probably would have worn anything I made him, but it would be weird to see him wear anything not green or orange.”

“Oh, that’s sensible—” Iruka began to say before he was interrupted by the door to the office swinging open and the Godaime walking in.

“Kakashi I’m back! Oh, Iruka, you’re here with the reports—those are just what I needed!” Sakumo rambled happily as he approached the desk.

“Great, now you can let me go,” Kakashi grumped and looked to the ceiling—silently asking for divine intervention no doubt.

Sakumo completely ignored Kakashi and instead came to stand next to the chair, looking down at his miffed son. He settled a hand on top of Kakashi’s head and proceeded to give the gravity-defying hair a good ruffle.

It took every ounce of self-restraint Iruka had not to burst at the seams with laughter. Kakashi looked _murderous._

Iruka was suddenly feeling envious of their exchange.

He violently quashed it down.

Iruka scrambled to pick the box of mission reports off the desk and stood at attention. “Where would you like them, Hokage-sama?” he asked.

Sakumo grinned at him and gestured toward the floor just behind the desk opposite him. “You can set them down over here, Iruka. Thanks.”

Iruka nodded and rounded the desk, dropping the box on the floor next to Kakashi.

“If that’s all, Hokage-sama, I’ll get back to the mission desk now,” Iruka said, looking at Sakumo.

“Is everything okay, Iruka?” Sakumo asked looking at him curiously.

Iruka’s heart jumped up into his throat as he was scrutinized.

So he smiled widely and said, “Everything’s great!”

Sakumo’s eyes narrowed just a little. Sandaime did that too when he caught Iruka crying at the monument, saying that everything was fine when it wasn’t.

“Well, besides the snow. I almost slipped this morning walking to the tower.” Iruka quickly added.

A half-lie.

Iruka had seen a big patch of ice on his way to work and walked carefully around it.

He didn’t want to have this conversation here, or at all. If Iruka’s luck held out, he’d only have to do a follow-up report with Ibiki or Inoichi about the incident earlier this morning. People in T&I were clinical and hardly cared for personal feelings in matters like this, so they wouldn’t ask too many questions.

Hatake Sakumo, on the other hand, was not. Like the Sandaime, he cared deeply for his subordinates. Iruka refused to break down in front of the man over a stupid burnt up scarf.

The Hokage turned to look out the windows behind him, watching as thick snowflakes fell past them.

“Hmm, I’ll have to get some people out to deal with the ice then,” Sakumo hummed thoughtfully, “Anyway, carry on!”

_Thank the gods._

Iruka bowed and quickly vacated the room.

* * *

When Iruka returned to the mission desk, there were only a few shinobi lined up in front of Anko. He didn’t immediately have to help her out.

So Iruka grabbed the small trashcan nearby, intent on sweeping the scarf ashes into it. Only the ash pile close to the edge of the desk was gone.

"Anko, what happened the mess that jackass left on the table?" Iruka asked, mildly perturbed as he looked from the spot and up at Anko who was stamping a report.

She looked over at him, then to the table, and shrugged. "No idea, haven't been paying attention."

"Some kind of ninja you are," Iruka snorted and set the trash can back down on the floor.

Iruka sat down and stared back down at the spot, noting that there wasn’t even a light dusting of ash residue on the table. His side of the table had been entirely wiped clean and nothing had been disturbed. Not even Anko.

Before he could ponder it further, Asuma walked up to his side of the desk holding out a mission report.

* * *

When six o’clock rolled around, Iruka was dead on his feet.

Izumo, Kotetsu, and another tokubetsu-jounin (that Iruka wasn’t familiar with) relieved them. Iruka generally didn’t spend much time after his shift chatting with the next shift, but tonight he all but ran out of the mission room to avoid it.

As he walked down the corridor to the exit, Iruka reflexively reached up to adjust the scarf around his neck. He was momentarily confused when his fingers didn’t meet yarn.

He didn’t have a scarf anymore.

Sunday was Iruka’s day off this week, he could always go find a replacement in the morning.

_Bleh._

Iruka was nearing the exit when Kakashi suddenly popped into existence with a shunshin. Iruka let out a startled yelp, then tripped over his feet and landed on his ass.

“Was that really necessary?” Iruka growled and glared up at Kakashi.

“I wanted to catch you before you left,” Kakashi replied with a shrug as his visible eye crinkled in amusement.

“Okay, but did you have to do it right in front of me?”

“Mmmm, I suppose I didn’t,” Kakashi hummed, “But it was the most effective way.”

Iruka rolled his eyes and made to pick himself up off the floor, but a fingerless-gloved hand was shoved into his line of sight. Iruka stared at it, then up at Kakashi. He was going to ignore it, he didn’t need help getting back up, but the simple gesture from someone that was normally considered aloof was inexplicably nice.

Iruka took the offered hand and Kakashi pulled him up. He ended up a lot closer to Kakashi than he was expecting, it was _way_ too intimate.

“So, uh, what did you need that required you to scare the shit out of me?” Iruka asked, willing himself not cringe at how awkward he sounded, and took a half step back away from Kakashi.

Kakashi’s arms rose slowly, Iruka assumed to shrug, but instead, Kakashi hooked a dark purple strip around his neck. It was soft against his skin, and not at all irritating.

Iruka looked down.

It was one of Kakashi’s knitted scarves.

Iruka brought his hands up to touch it. His fingers rubbed across the little chains of incredibly soft yarn. The dark purple color bled into lighter purples, it reminded him of watercolor painting. It was a beautiful and thoughtful gift. It choked Iruka up a bit.

_“What?_ I don’t—Kakashi, I can’t accept this!” Iruka stuttered and fumbled, unable to give words to his roiling thoughts under the swift current of the heavy emotions he was feeling.

Kakashi gently batted Iruka’s hands away and wrapped it around Iruka’s neck another time. “Nope! It’s yours now, no give-backsies!”

Iruka sputtered and pulled at the scarf to get it off, but Kakashi captured his wrists.

No give-backsies? How old was Kakashi? Ten?

Iruka gave him a funny, unimpressed look.

“I appreciate the thought Kakashi-san, I really do, but don’t you know people that may like to have it instead?” he asked incredulously.

Maybe Iruka was delirious with exhaustion, or he was straight up losing it, but it looked like a blush was creeping up from below Kakashi’s mask.

Kakashi rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly. “Maa, Iruka-san, a kitty cat told me that you had lost your other scarf. And I was already planning to give it to someone who was in need. This was very convenient.”

“You mean that ANBU, _Cat,”_ Iruka said slowly, looking at Kakashi expectantly.

Kakashi shrugged for real this time, a clearly faux-innocence sparkled in his eye. “I don’t remember.”

“Pffft, you’re a bad liar,” Iruka huffed.

Kakashi chuckled, and Iruka knew it was at him. Normally Iruka would be indignant, but Kakashi’s laughter was nice and different and unexpected. Iruka loved it.

“If you really want to pay me back for the scarf, you could go out to dinner with me,” Kakashi suggested. That was definitely a blush, and it was far more noticeable now.

Iruka felt his face heat up.

Yep, today was just a day of weird, unexpected things.

Yet Iruka wasn’t at all opposed to going out on, what Iruka assumed was, a date with Kakashi. If that’s what he wanted for payment, then who was Iruka to deny it?

Iruka grinned—and not wanting to be outclassed by Kakashi’s forwardness—and leaned in right into the jounin’s personal space on his right side. Kakashi didn’t move an inch, obviously waiting to see what would happen next.

“It was very thoughtful of you, Kakashi,” Iruka said and kissed Kakashi’s cheek, right where the mask ended and the skin began. It was chaste and sweet, and hopefully relayed all his feelings for the gift, as well as for Kakashi who had thought to give it to him in the first place.

“Dinner sounds great,” Iruka added as he leaned away from Kakashi.

The blush Kakashi was sporting now was very cute indeed. He looked like he was going to explode.

“Ah, yeah. Great. Umm… is tomorrow night good for you?” Kakashi stuttered.

“Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow night at seven.” Iruka snickered, “I’m sure you can figure out where I live.”

Iruka winked at him then walked around the jounin and headed for the exit. Just before he stepped out into the cold night, Iruka tightened the scarf around his neck.

Winter was his least favorite season, but now he had a new scarf—one made just for him.

He’d make sure to thank Kakashi properly for the gift tomorrow night.

* * *

**Bonus**

“Well, did you give Iruka the scarf?” Sakumo grilled Kakashi upon his son’s return.

Iruka was incredibly skilled at hiding his dismay, but Sakumo could tell something was off the moment he walked into the office and looked at the kid. He didn’t know what it was until Tenzo mentioned that another Konoha shinobi had destroyed Iruka’s scarf.

The very scarf he had knitted for Iruka’s mother, Kohari all those years ago.

Sakumo felt incredibly happy that Iruka had it, but hearing about the scarf’s fate made him feel incredibly vindictive. Enough to strongly consider giving the person responsible graveyard mission desk shifts, and restrict him to D-class missions. Three months would be a fitting length of time for both punishments.

Kakashi awkwardly cleared his throat and said nothing, but the light blush was very telling.

“You did, excellent!” Sakumo grinned, then waggled his eyebrows. “Did you finally ask him out on a date too, Kakashi-kun?”

Kakashi had a very cute crush on Iruka.

That was good, his son needed that kind of bond, and Iruka would be very good for him. Sakumo would be very honored to have such a wonderful son-in-law.

“Ugh, please don’t do this,” Kakashi whined, covering the rest of his face with his hand.

Sakumo ruffled Kakashi’s hair again, reveling in his son’s embarrassment as his hand was batted violently away.

Damn, it was great being a dad.

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  _Sakumo knitting with Lil Kakashi - art by[@wlwsakura](https://wlwsakura.tumblr.com/)_  
> Commissioned for me by my very dear friend [ladyxdaydream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyxdaydream/profile)!


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